mme could contain himself no longer; he began howling as though
his soul were being torn from his body. The priest was obliged to hold
his head for him. They asked Cesaire Horlaville to stop at the nearest
house. It was a farmhouse at the side of the road. Belhomme was carried
into it and laid on the kitchen table in order to repeat the operation.
Caniveau advised mixing brandy and water in order to benumb and perhaps
kill the insect. But the priest preferred vinegar.

They poured the liquid in drop by drop this time, that it might penetrate
down to the bottom, and they left it several minutes in the organ that
the beast had chosen for its home.

A bowl had once more been brought; Belhomme was turned over bodily by the
priest and Caniveau, while the schoolmaster was tapping on the healthy
ear in order to empty the other.

Cesaire Horlaville himself, whip in hand, had come in to observe the
proceedings.

Suddenly, at the bottom of the bowl appeared a little brown spot, no
bigger than a tiny seed. However, it was moving. It was a flea! First
there were cries of astonishment and then shouts of laughter. A flea!
Well, that was a good joke, a mighty good one! Caniveau was slapping his
thigh, Cesaire Horlaville snapped his whip, the priest laughed like a
braying donkey, the teacher cackled as though he were sneezing, and the
two women were giving little screams of joy, like the clucking of hens.

Belhomme had seated himself on the table and had taken the bowl between
his knees; he was observing, with serious attention and a vengeful anger
in his eye, the conquered insect which was twisting round in the water.
He grunted, "You rotten little beast!" and he spat on it.

The driver, wild with joy, kept repeating: "A flea, a flea, ah! there you
are, damned little flea, damned little flea, damned little flea!" Then
having calmed down a little, he cried: "Well, back to the coach! We've
lost enough time."

DISCOVERY

The steamer was crowded with people and the crossing promised to be good.
I was going from Havre to Trouville.

The ropes were thrown off, the whistle blew for the last time, the whole
boat started to tremble, and the great wheels began to revolve, slowly at
first, and then with ever-increasing rapidity.

We were gliding along the pier, black with people. Those on board were
waving their handkerchiefs, as though they were leaving for America, and
their friends on shore were answering in the same manner.